<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Sell Your Soul, Signed: by lorel_steele</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25373509">Sell Your Soul, Signed:</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorel_steele/pseuds/lorel_steele'>lorel_steele</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Lucifer (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Universe - Fantasy, Episode: s01e12 #TeamLucifer, F/M, Fluff, Hot Tub, Joffrey Baratheon Being an Asshole, Lucifer AU, Murder, Murder Mystery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sandor is a cop, Sansa is The Stranger, alternative universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:47:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,620</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25373509</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorel_steele/pseuds/lorel_steele</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark was tired of punishing souls in hell, so where does the Stranger take a vacation? Los Angeles, of course. Sansa works as a civilian consultant for the LAPD, along side her favorite detective, Sandor Clegane. When a young girl is murdered and Sansa’s moniker is carved into her back, will the unlikely pair find the real killer?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sell Your Soul, Signed:</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The Non Con elements will be brief and in the next chapter, but hopefully what happens in the hot tub will make up for it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p>“I still don’t believe it.” Bronn shook his head as he sat at his desk, glancing at the red head sitting on the reception desk, chatting with the entranced trainees. “She can’t be the Stranger, the Devil, whatever she calls herself.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sandor shook his head, shrugging as he scribbled through his paperwork. “She’s an asset to the department, and somehow always gets what she wants.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Talking about me, are we? My favorite subject.” Sansa strolled into the bullpen with her signature smirk on her lips. “Has someone died yet? Today is getting dreadfully boring,” she complained as she shoved some of Sandor’s papers aside, plopping down on his desk in front of him. “Unless one of you strapping gentlemen would like to make it more interesting.” She winked at both of them. Bronn sat up at his desk, Sandor shooting him a look that could only be described as deadly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“First of all, we don’t necessarily want people to die, and second, no, we don’t-,” Sandor’s desk phone interrupted him, his hand a millisecond too slow for Sansa’s. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Detective Clegane’s phone, his incredibly sexy and immortal civilian consultant speaking,” she grinned, winking at him as he rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Yes, alright, we will be there shortly,” Sansa placed the phone back on its receiver, hopping off his desk, “We have a case.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sandor shook his head as he got up, grabbing his coat from the back of his chair and pulling his badge and gun from his desk drawer. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Gods almighty, I will never get used to that view.” Bronn murmured, his eyes glued to Sansa’s leather clad hips swaying as she walked towards the parking lot. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fucking idiot.” Sandor grumbled, popping Bronn on the back of the head as he walked passed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’ve had plenty of opportunity, mate, it isn’t my fault you’re too chicken to take her up on it.” Bronn chuckled as he watched the unlikely pairing exit the precinct.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hurry up, detective, the time it takes you to get to the car would be millenia in hell.” Sansa called, running her fingers through her ginger locks as she leaned impatiently against the vehicle. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“As much as I hate to say it, Sans, the guy isn’t going to get any less dead.” Sandor shook his head as he unlocked his cruiser, sliding carefully into the cramped driver’s seat. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wonder what it will be this time, gang shooting, jealous spouse, maybe another artist determined to be even more famous.” Sansa grinned, tapping the tips of her fingers together and bracing the heel of her platform boot on his dashboard. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sandor shrugged, looking up the address and call report on his cruiser computer. He fought a grin as he glanced up at her. “Murder with possible ties to satanism.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa’s expression quickly morphed from a smile to rage he had never seen in his partner before. “You have got to be kidding me. They gave us this case as a joke right? I will call Arya right now and she will take care of whoever gave us this case,” her thumbs busily typed her favorite demon’s number into her cell phone. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sandor’s hand came to cover hers, stopping her from pressing the call button. “We are going to work this case just like we would any other.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa made a rather loud noise of discontent and dramatically crossed her arms over her chest, slumping down in her seat. “Fine,” she pouted, “but I will not stand by while they make a mockery of me.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Can you keep a lid on your little facade for a few hours?” Sandor asked, pulling the car onto the street and starting towards the outskirts of Los Angeles. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Facade? Detective, how dare you!” Sansa furrowed her eyebrows, glaring at him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fine, fine. I don’t think you can break any more of the department’s rules anyway.” Sandor glanced at her, fighting the smirk pulling on the good side of his face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They arrived at the crime scene, a popular theater and concert venue, to find a young woman laying in the middle of a large pentagram. Sansa was instantly on edge, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. The girl had obviously been stabbed in the chest, her white dress stained in her blood. “Her name is Rose Davis, 19, freshman at a local college.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sandor looked over the victim, noting the dermal implants under the skin of her forearms. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa swallowed heavily, her stomach uneasy as she accepted a glove from a paramedic, kneeling beside her and gently brushing the girl’s blond locks from her face. “So beautiful.” She murmured, shaking her head and rising to her feet once again. She turned away from the body, standing next to Sandor, refusing to look at him. “We are going to find out who did this, and they will be punished.” Her voice was low, almost a growl. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sandor nodded, placing a hand on her shoulder as he stepped by her to take a closer look. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There’s something you both should see.” An investigator nodded and the body was turned onto her stomach. The back of her dress had been sliced open, the words ‘Hail to the Stranger” carved into her back. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa inhaled deeply as she closed her eyes, unable to contain the combination of rage and sadness growing inside her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know what you’re going to say, but I have to ask,” Sandor held her arm gently, leading her a few feet away from the body. “Do you know anything about this? Who the girl is? Why your moniker is on her back?”  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sandor, how dare you think I have anything to do with this!” Sansa’s stiletto manicured fingernail dug into his chest, just barely keeping her eyes from changing into their devil form. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright, alright, I had to ask. I didn't think so, I don’t think even you could do something like this,” his large hands came to rest on her arms, giving them a comforting squeeze. Sansa visibly relaxed, his grey eyes staring into hers. “Come on, we found her ID tossed in the corner. We can go and speak to her family, find out some more about her.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The pair drove to Rose’s home, meeting her father there. Sansa was uncharacteristically quiet during their drive, and during their investigation. Sansa listened to the father’s description of his daughter, stating that she had been rebellious for several years beforehand. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This isn’t just a bookshelf.” Sansa glanced at her partner, pointing to an arc of scratches coming from the corner of the bookshelf. She fiddled with the arrangement of books, one of which didn’t move quite as easily as the others. Pulling the corner, a click preceded the swinging of the entire bookshelf, a small smile coming from Sansa’s lips. “Classic.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sandor gave her a nod of approval before flicking on the lights to the stairwell and following her up the steps. Sansa stumbled slightly, the tip of her boot catching the edge of a step.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sandor’s hands flew to her hips, his fingertips almost touching. “Stupid fucking boots,” Sansa hissed, steadying herself before glancing back at him. “Thank you,” her words were breathy. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa tried to calm the redness in her cheeks as she pushed open the door to the dark room, only lit by the sunlight streaming through the windows. Drying leaves and plants, along with jars of various types of flesh adorned tabletops. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is this all supposed to be for me?” Sansa ran her fingers over a wooden ornament. Melted candle wax and red candles surrounded a bowl full of chicken entrails and blood. She wrinkled her nose, shaking her head, “I decline this offering on the grounds of salmonella.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rose’s father picked up a photo of the blonde girl wearing black clothing with heavy black makeup. “This isn’t my daughter. The Rose I raised would never act this way.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’re sorry for your loss.” Sandor said uncomfortably, glancing over at Sansa. “It is possible your daughter was involved with whoever is responsible for this,” he took a few steps towards his partner. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He was quite a large man.” Sansa pointed to a large black combat boot hanging from a nail on the wall, her eyebrows waggling as she winked at Sandor, her eyes flickering to his enormous boots. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sandor nodded, rolling his eyes and flipping open a large black leather bound book. Sansa peeked over his shoulder, sneering at the large black lettering in a dramatic gothic font. “Church of the Dark Prince,” Sandor read aloud. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times. Who in dad’s name started the rumor that I was a man?!” Sansa slammed her fist against a bookshelf, the entire house shaking, and the wood under her hand splintering, “Can a woman not be ruler of hell?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sandor gave her an annoyed look, noticing a hand written note on the inside cover, “For my Corizon, Love Rose,” He continued. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Corizon is Spanish for heart. It may be a name, a pet name,” Sansa inhaled deeply, calming herself down. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sandor’s phone rang, his eyes scanning his partner as he listened to who she assumed was Bronn, “Was his name Corizon? Good, Thanks man.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They were able to trace the dermal implants, Corizon is a name. Apparently Rose brought them in herself and was really secretive about it.” Sandor picked up the book, asking the girl’s father if he could take it before they left, returning to the precinct.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sandor sat at his desk, a pair of tweezers in hand, pushing the plastic implants around on a surgical tray. A few feet in front of him, Sansa stood pacing, reading things aloud from the book and commenting on them. “There’s a whole chapter on sex here, maybe this book isn’t so bad,” she smirked, winking at her partner, who shook his head. “You could have a taste of all this if you wanted it, Detective, all you need to do is say so.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ignoring her comment, Sandor pushed the tray towards her with frustration. “These are letters of some kind, but I can’t figure out what order they go in.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa gave him a look, both of them knowing she was proficient in dead languages. She laid the book beside the tray and rolled her eyes, instantly knowing the answer. “It’s FiliI Hircus, it translates to Children of the Goat in Latin.” She grumbled, rearranging the letters and pushing the tray away from her. “I hate goats. I have been after whoever started that rumor for millenia, almost as long as the whole man thing.” She ground her teeth, “I don’t even eat goat cheese!” she threw up her hands. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sandor raised an eyebrow at her, an amused smile on his face, he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but seeing her flustered aroused him. Swallowing, he shifted to his computer, typing in the translation and pulling up a website entitled ‘Church off the Dark Prince’, the same as the cover page of the black book. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa rounded behind him, sitting down on the desk next to him, crossing her legs. “So they’re profiting off trying to give me things I obviously don’t want? If you’re going to sacrifice someone to me, I want them alive, I like having human toys to play with.” Sansa smirked, looking over some of the wording on the web page. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sandor pulled himself closer to his desk, hiding his lap beneath the wooden top. “Very secretive, this questionnaire is insane.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa leaned forward, her breasts very close to his line of sight. “Two hundred dollars for six months? Positively sinful,” she sneered, glancing down at Sandor. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He refused to look at her, for fear his eyes would betray him. “Here’s a log in, its password protected,” he carefully typed on the small keys of his keyboard, “Let’s try Filii Hircus.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa grinned as the password was accepted, a time and address for later that afternoon popping up on their screen. “Very nice Detective.” She smirked, nudging his shoulder with her fist. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The pair read further into the group before they left to investigate. When they arrived, Sansa strolled across the sidewalk to the immaculately carved door, rapping her knuckles against the wood. A small metal door slid to the side, a pair of eyes narrowing as they looked her over. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Filii Hircus.” She raised an eyebrow at the pair of eyes, shifting her weight. The eyes were unmoving, staring at the pair. “For the love of-, Habeas Corpus, Hooey Blooey,” she sassed, rolling her eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The door swung open, revealing a hooded figure to go with the pair of eyes. “You were right the first time, but today’s meeting is private.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The figure began to shut the door again, “Private, even for the Stranger herself?” Sandor pushed Sansa forward a few steps.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Herself? The Stranger is a man.” The hooded man shook his head, a grin on his lips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa growled under her breath, narrowing her eyes. “I get that a lot.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You have an ID?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I do actually,” she began patting the pockets of her leather pants and jacket. “Detective, I may have left it in the car, could you go and fetch it?” She batted her eyelashes. Sandor shrugged, returning to his vehicle. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa stepped forward, very close to the hooded figure, her devilish eyes aflame. Instantly frightened, the man took several steps back, swallowing hard, “You’re- you’re really-“ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa smiled, her eyes shifting back into their typical icy blue. “We’re in, Detective, let’s go see what gifts these fools think I’ll enjoy.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sandor shook his head at her. She knew he’d never truly believed her claims of being The Stranger, she planned on breaking the news to him gently, and definitely not today.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The pair found a door, watching the gathering through the glass, Sansa’s eyebrows pulled together as she listened. “That one is rather cute actually, I’d give him a good shag,” beside her, Sandor gave her a look of confusement with a small tinge of jealousy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Poor lamb, I’d probably be his first.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is everything about sex with you?” Sandor straightened to his full height, arms crossed over his chest, eyeing her carefully. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It isn’t for you? I thought men were supposed to only think about women and food.” Sansa schooled her face to show only innocence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What? No!” Sandor turned back to the door, hiding the pink coloration in his good cheek. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Inside, the entire group wore hooded robes and black clothing, the one speaking stood on a round platform adorned with a pentagram. “It’s a memorial, rather civilized actually,” she shrugged.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His rather heartfelt speech about Rose quickly took a turn when he pulled a knife from his sleeve. “Spoke too soon.” Sandor nudged his partner with his elbow. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We shall hear the Stranger speak!” The leader motioned towards the back of the room where a person who appeared to be wearing a goat head helmet exited a hidden room. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh hell no.” Sansa grabbed the door handle, yanking it towards her and almost smashing Sandor in the face, “This is where I draw the line.” Sansa pushed her way through the crowd, “Excuse me, Excuse me!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She stomped her way to the raised platform, her hands on her hips, “You butt out,” she pushed the helmeted teenager backwards with her finger pressed against his forehead, turning towards the leader. “I am the real Stranger! I am Sansa Stark!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Chuckles came from around the room, enraging her more. “I insist you stop this absolute nonsense! Have you actually listened to yourselves? The embarrassment! You’re preaching rebellion, but if anything you’re misguided sheep!” her chest heaved as she breathed heavily, motioning toward the annoyance looming behind her “and goat. Where is the real defiance? The free will?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hell yeah! Free will,” a voice from the crowd cheered her on, beginning to clap.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No! No! Don’t applaud! You’re doing it again!” Sansa gritted her teeth, “This entire thing is a sham!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The crowd continued to get more restless, one of the members murmuring something about the best Stranger they’d ever had, beginning a chant with her name.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Stop! This girl is dead! This is not what I stand for, this is not what I wanted! She didn’t deserve to die!” Sansa’s nostrils flared as she looked to Sandor in some effort to ground and calm herself. “You should all be ashamed.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa turned to the scrawny teenager on the sidelines, stepping towards him. “I would love it if you came by Winterfell sometime, we can have some fun.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa stepped off the platform, Sandor bending to whisper in her ear. “The leader has subdermal implants as well.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa nodded, watching as the white makeup covered leader disappeared into a side room. “Looks like a member of Kiss,” Sansa murmured, making Sandor chuckle.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They followed the Gene Simmons wannabe, Sandor pulling his badge from his belt, “LAPD, drop the knife.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Holding his opposing hand up, the leader put the ornate knife he was holding on the table.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sandor put his badge away, his hand resting on the grip of his side arm. “Why did you run?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Feeling guilty are we? For killing an innocent girl?” Sansa glared, making a move to step towards him, but quickly stopped when she felt Sandor’s hand on the small of her back. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I didn’t kill her.” Their suspect glanced at the redhead, unable to look either of them in the eye. “If anything I want revenge,” he pulled his hood from his head in frustration, revealing a crude line of white paint at his receding hairline. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa swallowed, straightening as she fought the urge not to giggle. She’d only been earthside for a few years and she was better at makeup than this fool. For the love of her father, did no men know what blending was? A makeup sponge?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You have an alibi for your whereabouts?” Sandor crossed his arms over his chest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I do actually. I was with,” he cleared his throat, eyes flashing to the door, “I was with Razor all night.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Razor?” Sansa made a face before peeking her head back into the ceremony room, “Razor, sweetling?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The young man across the room which she’d propositioned earlier perked up. “Yes ma’am?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa’s face fell, retreating back into the side room. “That sweet lamb? You fucked that?” Sandor shot her a nasty look, shaking his head. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He’s legal I swear.” The leader raised his hands a bit, his eyes darting in Sandor’s direction. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Does he swing both ways?” She bit her lip, the fingers on the hand at her hip crossed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I honestly don’t know.” The man shrugged.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before Sansa could reach for the door handle again, Sandor put his hand on her elbow. “Anyway, do you know a Corizon?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, he’s a regular, but he didn’t show up for today’s service, which surprised us all.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is there any way we can get ahold of him?” Sandor pulled a mini notebook from his pocket, its size in his hand laughable. Sansa couldn’t help but to occasionally daydream about how his hands would feel on her body, how the calluses on his hands would feel against her breasts. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We should have his information in the drawers here,” his cloak flowed dramatically behind him as he crossed the room, opening an ancient filing cabinet and rifling through pages. Handing the folder to Sansa, Sandor carefully took photos with his phone and wrote down the address and phone number. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once the pair were back in their cruiser, Sansa settled in her seat. “I’m going to go ahead and have Bronn track his phone and put out an APB.” Sandor glanced at his partner as he carefully typed on the phone screen, his large thumbs often butchering the wording of his text messages. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Until then, perhaps I could have a bit of fun with little Razor in there?” Sansa batted her eyelashes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What? No!” Sandor looked up at her, shaking his head, “We are on the clock, Sans, you can’t,” his hands waved back and forth wildly, his mouth unable to formulate words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Narrowing her eyes, Sansa crossed her arms. “Is that jealousy in your voice detective? Because if I didn’t know any better I would say you wanted to take me up on one of my many offers.” Her body relaxed as she leaned towards him slightly, shifting to sit sideways in her seat. It was strange, she was always down for a good shagging, but when it came to the Detective, it was different. Sleeping with Sandor Clegane wasn’t just a joke anymore, she could see herself actually enjoying it, she genuinely cared for his feelings. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jealous? Fuck Jealousy.” Sandor growled under his breath, unable to meet her gaze, “The fuck do I have to be jealous of? That scrawny cunt in there?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa raised her eyebrows, her head tilting. “Sandor, calm down, I was kidding,” her voice softened as she spoke, a hand coming to rest on his forearm. She could feel his muscles relax, his eyes finally meeting hers. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa could feel her body leaning inwards, gravitating towards the comfort of his arms, a hand almost ghosting over the scars on his face. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The ringing of Sandor’s phone startled them both, making Sansa jump and quickly retreat to her side of the vehicle. “Already? Oh, shit, yeah, we’ll be there in a few,”</p>
<p>Sandor threw his phone at the dash in frustration. “Our mystery beau is dead. Hanging in a warehouse.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Suicide?” Sansa murmured, furrowing her eyebrows.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t know, Bronn said the scene was interesting.” Sandor started the vehicle and followed the directions on the GPS. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa noticed his knuckles turning white as he gripped the gearshift between them, his face making subtle expressions as he chastised himself in his mind. A small smirk came to her lips as she gently laid her hand over his, lacing her fingers through his. Out of the corner of her eye she saw his eyes dart from the road, to her, their hands, and back, bewilderment on his face. She bit her lip, fighting the grin on her lips, his thumb now running along her skin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Putting the cruiser in park outside the warehouse, Sandor was reluctant to let go of her hand, gently bringing it to his lips so he could press a kiss to her knuckles. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Inside, neither of them addressed what had happened in the car, both of them staring at the body suspended from the ceiling. “You can let him down now.” Sandor stood back a few paces, glancing at the various crates scattered around the building. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They’re covered in red paint.” Sansa furrowed her eyebrows, random streaks of red liquid dripping down the wood. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Detective, Ma’am, I think I know what the paint is.” An officer several paces away, tilting his head. Both Sansa and Sandor met the officer where he stood. At that certain angle, the paint lines connected to form the word ‘Stark’. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bloody hell.” Sansa breathed, her eyes closing. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Clegane.” A weaselly voice came from behind them, summoning her partner. Joffrey Baratheon stood with his eyes narrowed at her, still holding a heavy grudge against her. When she’d first begun working with Sandor, he had made a pass at her, all but shoving his tongue down her throat. She had been close to letting her true form slip as anger filled her body, but luckily Sandor had come into the room and pulled him off her. His father was part of the city council, a very powerful man, and had ensured that no matter what either of them said, Joffrey only got promoted, now outranked only by his uncle, Jaime Lannister. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sandor made an attempt to argue about something, his eyes catching hers for a split second. Sansa could see him begrudgingly agree, returning to her side. His large hand spread across the small of her back, leading her towards the entrance. “He thinks you did this. He’s insistent on pinning both murders on you.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before Sansa could argue, Sandor shushed her, shaking his head. “I know you didn’t, you were with me all morning and this body is relatively fresh,” he sighed heavily, “I’m still going to take you home. It’s best for you to stay away until we figure out who actually did this.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa chewed her lip, shaking her head as she complied, following him to the car. As she stepped through the doorway she shot a glare back at the blond bastard, who waved at her with a gloved hand, a sadistic smile on his face. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sandor drove her home, their hands returning to the gear shift, much to Sansa’s delight. He followed her into the elevator of her building, riding with her all the way to her penthouse suite. She stood close to him, his presence comforting to her, along with the thrill sent through her chest each time their hands ‘accidentally’ brushed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stepping out of the elevator, Sansa peeled off her leather jacket, tossing it onto the bar top and leaving her in a cropped halter top, black lace frills tickling the skin of her toned stomach. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sandor inhaled sharply as he struggled to keep his eyes off her. The chill in the Los Angeles air had kept her jacket zipped for most of the day, but she never failed to wear something sexy underneath. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Drink, Detective? I bloody well need one.” She smirked as she hopped up on the bar, swinging her legs over and dropping back down behind it. She examined the labels of the various brown liquors carefully before settling on a high dollar scotch, pouring herself a healthy portion and taking a sip. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, I need to get back to the precinct.” The words left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he knew if he was to let himself drink around her, adding alcohol intoxication on top of her already intoxicating presence, he would be a goner. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa took a large gulp of her scotch, rounding the bar again and leaning her elbows against the wooden top. She would never admit it, but she was sure to push out and wiggle her assets a bit. She heard a low growl from behind her, hiding her smile in another sip of her drink as he moved to lean against the bar stool beside her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You should come back tonight after you get off. We can use my new hot tub on the balcony.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sandor swallowed, considering her offer. “Take out?” A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Raising her eyebrows, her most devilish grin shining, she turned to face him, leaning a bit closer to his chest. “Of course. Do know, though, that if you forget your trunks I have a few pairs laying around, so there is no reason for you to not join me.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sandor sighed, his eyes taking her in for a moment before he turned to leave. “I will find the fucker that did this.” He gave her a reassuring nod before reluctantly leaving.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa stood stiffly as he disappeared, a shiver running down her spine at the notes of protectiveness and possessiveness in his voice. She stood there for a long moment, finishing off her drink before walking into her bedroom. She pulled up her fiery locks, peeling the leather off her legs and putting on her favorite pair of extremely skimpy shorts. She changed into a tank top, turning on the television in her living room before wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, curling up on the couch to watch a movie. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The movie was almost over when the ding of her elevator made her smile, checking the time on her phone “You’re early, Detective.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, not quite.” </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>